


Lilac Festival

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Collection, Erotica, F/M, Jealousy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Riding, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Table Sex, i am SO sorry for being horny, will update tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x wakatoshi ushijima | lemon one shots]Unyielding strength… he does it (read: you) best.
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 698





	1. orchid

**Author's Note:**

> just continuing to add to my extreme ushi stan status... don't mind me...

You suppose Ushijima’s unwavering focus is a trait to be admired. He loves you and only you so unconditionally. You’ve never felt second best, even as he devotes his life to volleyball. When he puts his mind to something, he gets it done, no matter what; he’s unrelenting, even if his foe is a Word document. 

“Toshi,” you sighed, unable to mask your impatience anymore. You knocked on the back of his chair, antsy. “How much longer are you going to work?”

“I need to have my first draft in by tonight.”

“Maybe you could actually get that done if you typed faster than an old man.”

He shot you a cold look before turning back to the screen. It wasn’t like he even had the right to be offended about it; he hit every key with an infuriating delicateness that had his wpm score at like, a solid three. He wouldn’t let you transcribe for him either, even though you were far more capable, and the concept of using speech-to-text baffled his poor mind. No amount of complaining would get his attention at this point, so it was time to take things into your own hands.

You returned after a short jaunt to the bedroom. Ducking under his elbow, you looped under his outstretched limb and settled on his lap. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you sat there triumphantly.

“I can’t see the screen, [Name].”

“That’s the point. Look at _me_.”

He did so, pointedly. You’d changed out of your work clothes into a shirt and little else; it was one of his old ones that you’d ‘borrowed’ and never gave back. It hung loosely off of your frame, the end just riding high enough to expose your upper thighs.

“If you wait, I’ll be done soon.” His gaze flickered back up to yours, the emotions he so carefully guarded murky behind his neutral expression. You frowned.

“Can’t you just take a five-minute break?”

“You know this wouldn’t take five minutes.”

It was then that you realized that you were successful in catching him in your trap after all. Weighing yourself down, you ground your hips forwards into his ever-so-slightly.

“[Name],” he warned sharply. Finally, he lifted his hands from the keyboard, gripping you at the hips to stop you. His hands cupping you warmly further fueled the tingle of excitement dancing through your nerves.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “You’ve been playing long games non-stop. I _missed_ you.” And speaking of missing, you found what you were looking for; the very obvious lump in his shorts rose up to greet you as if emerging from a slumber. He wasn’t really the type to spoil others, but you always got your way. Ushijima was a simple creature after all.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yours truly, dear.”

His left hand slid up to the middle of your shoulder blades and pushed you into him. His lips were waiting for you, quick to devour. It was always all or nothing from him, and this was on a very obvious part of the scale. You couldn’t help but grin into his kiss as his desperation built tangibly. 

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling back. “So you _did_ have time for me?”

“Shut up.”

It was rare for him to curse or even tell people off, his preferred method of spite defaulting to grumpy expressions. It’s why you tease him so brutally—it unlocks parts of him only you get to see. He’s so much stronger and bigger than you and easily lifts you with his hips, one of his hands disappearing from your support to wrestle down his pants. You can feel every muscle fibre of his quadriceps twitch under your legs as he flexes. 

“Tosh—”

He enters you without warning, a finger hooking under your shirt to slip the thin fabric of your panties aside. It’s a swell that fills you completely, knocking the words out of your mouth before you can finish the thought.

“Is this what you wanted?” he breathed up into your ear. You glanced down at him through your lashes. His eyes were half lidded, the bright gold of his eyes darkening into smoky amber jewels. The dominance he emanates chokes you into absolute silence. It’s all you can do to swallow thickly and nod. 

“It’s funny how quiet you get,” he muttered. His hands locked behind the small of your back. With ease he rocked you forwards and back. You felt every micro-movement in your gut and in your fingertips, too. He was felt all across your body, like the head of his dick had tapped access into your nervous system and was sending off one frantic alert signal, over and over: _this feels fucking amazing_. 

“I’d like to see you change that,” you breathed, pulling back and balancing your arms straight with your fingers digging into his delts. He stared up at you like you were an angel, and you glared down at him like he was some sort of devil. His gaze drifted down to your hips, joined together. Your feet didn’t touch the ground, so your balance literally lay in his big, warm hands. Not that you wouldn’t trust him with anything less than your life.

It’d been about a week or so since he’d last fucked you properly, busy with aforementioned games, you busy with grueling shifts at work. Adult life doesn’t treat you kindly, though it might’ve been well worth the wait. Delayed gratification or something like that, right? You felt _everything_ , your body so sensitive and hyper-tuned to his that every motion made your legs tremble at your sides. You had to squeeze your thighs to either side of him, your toes scraping the back of the chair. He moved slow and easy at first, lifting you up and down his full length. You could tell he liked it when you gasped because his fingers would tighten on your back, creating tension on the oversized shirt.

“Wakatoshi,” you moaned, curling your arms around his neck and winding your hands into his hair. Your body curved to his in any desperate attempt to get closer. “That feels so good… ah…!”

He responded with a forceful thrust, one you felt in his hips before you felt in your body. The angle was far different than in a bed. It was sharply vertical. With the skin on skin contact combined with the feeling of dangling in mid-air—you were practically tearing out his hair to keep yourself grounded into reality. He had his feet planted on the ground to support the both of you and couldn’t get much rise; he solved the problem quickly by reaching up, crossing his arms over your back and grabbing you at the shoulders. It was a brutally forceful movement, the way he slammed you down into him, but it was _so_ deep and _so_ what you needed right now. 

You didn’t know why you even bothered trying to shut yourself up; the moans he wrestled out of you were endless and borderline embarrassing. The smacking of wet bodies wasn’t pretty or romantic, but you weren’t exactly feeling pretty right now. He made you dirty. He made you into this animal of a being whose only ability was to take him, and by God were you going to lose your mind trying to do that one job.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimpered suddenly, more to the air than to him or yourself. “I’m gonna— _God_ —”

You were clutching his head to your chest, so it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear him even if he wanted to say anything. He wasn’t much of the dirty talker, letting his actions speak. They were sure fucking loud—he screwed you in a way that made you want to apologize for some reason, like you’d done something wrong, because there was really no way these feelings were even legal. His breathing was ragged; you couldn’t see his face, but you felt it, scalding your skin. Even a pro athlete gets tired when he does all the work. Poor guy.

“ _Fuck_!” you swore aggressively, your head jerking back reflexively. You could feel it building all the way in your gut up to your chest. He was taking you so close. Just a little more and you’d be over. Ushijima lifted his head and he just _looked_ at you, warm and flushed in the face, lips barely parted and eyes so heavy and dark with desire. Jesus. That was enough. 

It was some scramble of syllables that didn’t resemble language. You couldn’t quite remember. Every muscle in your body seemed to tense and then relax at once. Your walls convulsed with a long overdue orgasm, rocking your hips further down into his, driving him even deeper up into you. Not wanting to be seen this vulnerable, you turned your face, squeezing the life out of him with your legs and arms as you tried to hang on to ride the high out. Maybe you were screaming just in your head or out loud—who knows. He hugged you back just as tightly, managing a few more pumps before his hips checked deep. He finally made a noise, a wrangled groan disappearing into the crook of your neck. Even though you had quite literally done nothing but sit there, you were panting for breath, floored with exhaustion. As your senses came back slowly, you let the tension drain from your body, heavily allowing your weight to sink onto him.

“I guess… I’ll let you get back to your… paper thingy now.” The sleepiness was quick to settle, and you raised your head leisurely. His hair was messy and off-balance now, courtesy of you, so you smoothed it back down with your palms.

“I’ll just work on it tomorrow.”

“Aw. What happened to having your first draft in by tonight?”

“My girlfriend happened.” He yawned widely, his hands slipping down your back comfortingly.

“Hm. Good answer.” You smiled fondly. But then you remembered something and looked down. You hadn’t noticed when, but Ushijima had definitely snapped some stitches in his desperation, and you’d much rather just toss it than try to wash _him_ out of your panties. “Aw, damn. I really liked this one.”

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he returned casually. You raised your eyebrows, watching his expression as he carefully pulled out of you, re-settling you further down his legs while yanking his shorts back up.

“Waka, are you my sugar daddy?”

“Your what?” he asked, glancing up at you confusedly. “I’m not your dad.”

“It’s a saying!” you insisted incredulously. “You’ve never heard of it?”

“No.”

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. “Oh, God. You’re impossible. Remind me to explain it to you tomorrow… let’s just go to bed for now.”

“Okay.” He rose out of the chair, his arm hooking under your knees to lift you up with him. You nestled your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes. “But. What does the sugar part mean?”

“ _Bed_.”


	2. iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoohohooohoooo i luv jealousy trope..

“Holy shit.” Semi did a dramatic double-take as he walked up to the group, even going so far as to squint his eyes to make sure he was seeing clearly. “Am I insane, or does [Name] look—”

“Oop! Bad topic right now, Semi Semi.”

Tendou swooped in for the rescue, as usual, lassoing the fellow third year around the neck with his lanky arm. Though the mere passing mention of the girl’s name had already done enough damage, and Ushijima was very obviously bristling despite his usual silence.

“Tsutomu!” she giggled, oddly loudly despite the casual situation. They were standing a couple metres away, but it was clear that she was shouting, her voice echoing in the gymnasium for everybody to hear. It was raised an octave higher than usual, girly and sweet. “You’re _so_ well built for a first year. You’re tall, too. And you play as a regular? That’s crazy. What do you mean you don’t have a girlfriend yet?”

“I—well. Um. I-I don’t know…?”

“You _don’t_ have girls flocking up to you?” she hummed, “’cause you should.”

“Sh-should I?”

“Poor guy,” Reon mused under his breath, though not without amusement. “He’s dying out there.”

“Let him figure it out. Baby birds gotta fall out the nest some time so that they can spread their wings,” Yamagata remarked, openly grinning.

“Flying over twin mountains.”

Everybody (excluding Ushijima) snuck a guilty glance back over. [Name] often wore modest clothes as a trainer. After all, Shiratorizawa had a severe dress code, so she usually showed up to practice in a sweater with her trainer windbreaker over top of regular leggings. The school uniform was the same for all girls. Today, she sported a baggy, sheer white top that left very little and also quite a lot to the imagination, its V-neck dipping far, far below the neck. She had even gone so far as to knot the front into a tighter crop, exposing the curves of her waist and the hint of her belly button. She wore black shorts that weren’t much different than the ones the girls’ volleyball team wore the next gym over, but hers hugged every inch, tantalizingly riding up each time she took a step or—Lord forbid—bent over. [Name] had always been an attractive girl, but she’d never… _shown off_ like this in such a public space. She was still leaning onto Goshiki, batting dark eyelashes that complimented the black, sharp wing of eyeliner she’d worn. Glitter sparkled on her eyelids, adding further to her overall look. 

“What did you _do_ , man?” Semi asked with obvious disbelief, clapping a hand onto Ushijima’s shoulder. He accepted the slap stiffly, not even flinching.

“We’re having… an argument.”

“Oh. Are you guys… did you, uh…” He glanced over to Tendou, who’d probably know the answer. The red-head merely shrugged with an exaggerated frown.

“We did not break up,” Ushijima returned flatly. “We’re just not talking right now.” He didn’t elaborate after that, much to his friends’ frustration. 

“Okay, well, she’s obviously trying to make you jealous, so she’s pretty mad. And Tsutomu’s about to blow, so I think you should go say sorry or whatever and make up.” Yamagata crossed his arms. He was always on the junior’s side, having a soft spot for him.

“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” Ushijima retorted.

“Your hands are _so_ big!” her voice rang over. “That’s so cute, Tsu!”

“They’re holding hands now,” Reon supplied bluntly, though it was sympathetic. “And she gave him a _nickname_ , Wakatoshi.”

Unable to take that lying down, Ushijima finally turned and looked. Goshiki, blushing furiously, stared down at his feet as [Name] measured her much smaller hand up against his. Ushijima’s stomach turned. She’d done the same with him, once.

“You _know_ she’s more stubborn than you are,” Tendou sighed, prodding his friend in the back. “You’ll never win this game. Better go before she smooches him or something.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Hey, Tsu, can I ask you something?” she practically yelled, “have you ever had your first kiss yet?”

That was enough. If not for his own crumbling masculinity and pride, he had to at least save his underclassman, who was very obviously suffering from heat stroke in the air-conditioned gym. He dropped the ball he’d been squeezing the life out of and stalked over, grabbing [Name] by the back of her shirt without saying another word. Wrenching her away from Goshiki, he begun to walk to the doors.

“What the _hell_ , Ushijima?!” she demanded angrily, tearing herself out of his grip.

“Tape job,” he lied fiercely, switching his grasp to her wrist. “ _Now_.”

He was stronger than her, and even if she dug in her heels and resisted with all her might, she would never be able to stave him off. She stumbled along after him as he walked with wide, fast strides. The trainer room was empty. He shoved her inside.

“You fucking kidding me?” she continued vehemently as he kicked the heavy wooden door shut behind her. It slammed loudly, and he knew it’d draw attention, but he didn’t care. “You don’t talk to me and _now_ th—”

“What are _you_ doing?” he interrupted hotly.

“Nothing,” she chirped back, ‘innocently’, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why? There something wrong?”

He walked towards her, sticking his foot between her legs to force her backwards. With nowhere to run, she backed up into a treatment table. Her hands shot out to her sides to balance herself—he reached over her on either side, planting his palms onto the padded surface, leaning hard into her so that all she could see and feel was _him_.

“You know _exactly_ what you’re doing,” he cautioned lowly, trying to control his tone as he thought about her with her hands all over another guy. He saw her bite her tongue.

“I’m sorry, does it _bother_ you?”

“You know damn well it does.”

“Poor baby.” She pretended to pout, rubbing away fake tears. “Major suck town when your significant other doesn’t pay attention to you, huh?”

Her breath was sweet; something had the spicy scent of ginger. She was wearing a perfume, probably behind her ear—frosted cranberry. It was making his head spin, though that might also be the blistering irritation clouding his thoughts.

“What do you want from me, [Name]?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” she swore, her eyes rolling back into her head. “You are _so_ fucking slow on the uptake.”

She hopped onto the table, spreading her knees out to prop him in between her legs. He felt her foot snake around the back of his knee, knocking him closer towards her. She caught him with her hands at the waist.

“Still need me to spell it out?” she asked, the challenge not lost on her tone.

“What makes you think you even deserve it?” he asked, defiant. Though it was a hopeless train of questioning; she couldn’t wear these kinds of clothes and act that kind of way around other guys and _not_ expect him to be driven insane. He was only human. 

“’Cause I’m pretty, and I put up with you… isn’t that enough?” 

When he was silent, she reached forwards, sticking two fingers down the waistline of his shorts and briefs. He jumped with the shock of it, electrified by the feeling of her sharp nails somewhere so vulnerable. 

“Wakatoshi,” she complained when he still didn’t move.

“So we’re back on a first name basis?”

“Ugh, you know what? Nevermind. Fuck you. Go jerk off or something.” With a scowl she made to push herself off the table and leave, but he blocked her path, hooking his left hand under her knee to pull her into him. The pulsating erection ground between the two of them, eliciting a shocked gasp, much to his pleasure.

“Who said you could go?”

“Aw, getting possessive? Scared I’m gonna run to somebody else?”

God, it was like she was deliberately choosing the words that’d piss him off the most. It didn’t occur to him that she was probably meaning to do that until _after_ he had kissed her, wrestling her lips open and shoving his tongue down her throat. She opened up to him so submissively and easily that there was no way she hadn’t expected this to happen.

“Don’t ever touch Goshiki like that again,” he snapped, pulling away to look her in the eye. He was glowering as she panted for breath, wiping her bottom lip with the back of her hand. She tasted like mint lip gloss, and the way her plump, red lips quivered for him—he was going to lose it. “Don’t ever touch _anybody_ like that again. You are _mine_.”

“Says who?” she breathed, but her eyes were alight and wild with ecstasy. He reached up her back and grabbed the hair she’d left down in waves. Yanking it down so her chin pointed into the air, he stared down at her intently.

“Says me.”

He kissed her again, knowing she couldn’t hold her breath as long as he could. He drank her mewls for help up until she clawed at his arm. Only then did he release her, letting her gasp for breath like a fish out of water. Keeping her head at this angle, he could watch her gaze up at him helplessly.

“Are you going to fuck me?” she asked breathlessly, eyes so wide he could almost see himself reflected in them.

“Do you promise?”

“To…?”

“Never do this to me again.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I promise.”

His fingers tightened on her hair, and he relished in the flinch that crossed her face. “I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, I promise—I love you, okay? I’m sorry, Wakatoshi, I won’t do it again.”

He let go, allowing her to drop her head forwards back into a neutral position. Her hands were gripping him tightly at the crux of his elbow. With no time to waste, he grabbed a fistful of her ass-tight shorts and yanked them down to her ankles. She struggled with his own, his bulge proving a difficult obstacle to bypass, apparently. He let them drop to the floor, not even caring about what kind of dust was down by his shoes. Grabbing her legs, he yanked her forwards.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost in awe, trained fingers slipping between the slick vertex between her perfect legs. Her eyelids twitched imperceptibly, her lips parting into lopsided o. 

“Obviously, idiot…”

Figuring there’d be no issue, he withdrew his hand and promptly replaced it with his cock. She inhaled sharply with his fast, rushed entry. Maybe on another day he’d ask her if she was okay, but he quite frankly did not care what she was feeling right now unless it was uncontrollable, unsurmountable pleasure. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, not even on the third stroke. Her head fell forwards onto his chest. “You fuck me so good.”

He didn’t reply; he didn’t need to, his hips snapping forwards into hers, eliciting a delighted shriek. She clapped her hand over her mouth, burying her face into the inside of his jacket. He hated having to hear her cries muffled, but it just wasn’t an ideal place to be doing this and dealing with getting caught would be a million times worse.

“I wanna come,” she whimpered through her fingers, her voice barely audible. He felt her voice vibrate against his chest and his fingers tightened around her thighs, digging into her impossibly soft, supple legs. “I wanna come so bad—”

“Then do it,” he growled, ignoring her to concentrate on his own high, which was just barely out of reach. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, focusing on the immense pleasure radiating up and down his body. “Who do you belong to?”

When she didn’t answer, he used his dominant hand to knock her chin up, forcing her to face him. The other remained on the small of her back to ensure she didn’t go anywhere. Her face was flushed red and her eyes were so huge and desperate. All traces of the smug, manipulative girl she’d been had vanished. She’d melted into him. Putty.

“I said, _who do you belong to_?”

She grit her teeth together and remained silent, clearly trying her best to one-up him. The table squeaked as he leant forwards into her.

“I’ll stop.” It’d mean he wouldn’t finish if he slowed down here, but if that’d piss her off even a fraction of what he’d felt today, it’d be enough.

“You,” she admitted immediately, shutting her eyes. “It’s you. It’s always you, Tos— _ah_!”

She was so easy to get answers out of like this. He was quite frankly relieved that they were talking again at all—whenever she had these temper tantrums, she was hard to track down, and even harder to speak to. She was the catty type, always vanishing and hissing at you until _she_ wanted love. Probably not great of him to not remember why they’d been fighting in the first place, but it seemed behind her for now, and he’d like to keep it that way.

She pressed her lips together to contain something that was probably a scream of his name anywhere else. Her hands shot forwards and gripped his sweater as handles, wrenching his torso towards her. He pushed her off of him, feeling her walls tighten around him—any more and he wouldn’t be able to hold back. His hand dropped, and though it was no replacement, it took him no time at all to finish. His right hand supported him on the table as he winced, ribbons of hot fluid painting the tops of her bare legs.

“Okay,” she gasped, heaving for breath. “I should get you mad more often.”

“You _just_ promised me that you wouldn’t.” He glared at her as he hiked his pants back up. Towels were lined up on the wall, neatly rolled, so he grabbed one and mopped her off. 

“I know, but that was _bomb_. And you’re so cute when you’re jealous—”

“ _[Name]_.”

“You’re right,” she sighed, hopping off the table to her feet. She combed her fingers through tangled hair and smiled up at him. “I promised.”

He reached down and pulled the hair elastic bunching up her shirt off the knot, forcing the hem to fall over her navel. Remembering, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it over her shoulders.

“Zip that up,” he ordered. “And don’t you dare even _look_ at Goshiki.”

“Aw.” She obeyed, shaking back the too-long sleeves to free her hands. “You’re jealous of Tsu? He’d be happy to know you think of him as competition.”

“I mean it.”

“‘Kay,” she chorused, though the grin on her face didn’t give him much faith. He followed her out of the trainer room back into the gym, where the sound of squeaky shoes and bouncing volleyballs flooded out into the hall. Diligently, she walked straight to the trainer’s bench, hands deep into his pockets, which were hanging all the way past her waist. He made way back to his own team, which was on the sideline, waiting to be rotated on anyways.

“So, where’s your tape job?” Tendou asked knowingly as he walked up, even going so far as to wink.

“There wasn’t actually a problem, I guess.”

“Oh. So I _guess_ she was just giving you a private consultation for, uh…” He checked a non-existent watch. “Almost half an hour?”

“None of your business, Tendou.”

“Hey—look at Goshiki,” Semi snickered. Everybody’s eyes drifted over to the young first year on another team, who had noticed [Name]’s return, and immediately turned to face the wall (by himself) as if that was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Poor kid. That’s probably the closest he’s ever been to a girl.”

“You’re really jealous of the bowl cut kid?” Yamagata added, eager to poke fun at Ushijima. It was a rare opportunity. 

“No.”

“It’s all over your face, Wakatoshi.” Reon reached over, picking something off of his shoulder. The long hair fluttered in between his fingers.

“Well,” Ushijima muttered self-consciously. “He did say he’s the future ace. He has potential.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He _just_ got over his boner. Lord knows he doesn’t need another one.”


	3. violet

“Wakatoshi…!”

Your moans echo in the bathroom, mingling heavy with steam and the sweet perfume of soap. He responds avariciously by driving his hips into yours, deeper, and you nearly slip with the force. But with an almost stubborn resoluteness, he holds you in place. You think that if his grip slackens just a little bit, you’ll be thrown to your feet. The tiled wall is stone-cold in front of you, a stark contrast that powerfully saps your heat. Your hands slip uselessly on the moisture. Your tits feel like they’re being flattened, he’s fucking you that hard. And all you can do is cry his name.

It’s hard to breathe, half bent over, winded, sweating your ass off—your beloved boyfriend is giving you no safe refuge, grunting with satisfaction when another feeble whimper peters out of your throat. You feel a broad, familiar hand wind in your tangled wet hair before he jerks your head back.

“More,” he growls, the other hand snaking around your hips. You gasp sharply and stumble when his thumb seeks your clit, already swollen from how turned on you are from being screwed this filthily in the morning. His hair is darker than usual and flat, plastered to his face. Water beads on his face, dribbling down his brow. It does nothing to temper the smokiness of his honey gold eagle eyes. He looks like an entirely different man, and yet your heart overflows with all the same love for him.

“Fuck,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid the painful spray of water misting into them. Now that he’s got a better hold on your hips, he moves you while he moves himself, reaching into you even deeper than before. Your legs shake, and you collapse further forwards. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

It’s an understatement to describe how wet you are; the water, the steam, the soap—it must’ve all contributed. But to be blunt, you just love it. You love how dirtily he fucks you in the space you’re supposed to get clean. He’ll take you anywhere. And—God willing—you’ll take _him_.

Coming is the usual with him. You always lose track. Wakatoshi is a beast on and off the court—why would you be spared? Your body contorts and spasms around his, your pathetic squeals loud in your ears as they bounce back off the tiles, reminding you that _he’s_ the one that makes you like this. You press your cheek into the coldness of the wall, trying to cool off, or at least hold onto a shred of your sanity. He must be close as you can hear his animalistic breathing stutter ever so slightly. His pace quickens, driving harder into you, and— _shit, seriously?_ You mentally beg for him to be finished with you, digging your nails into your palms.

“Ugh—[Name]!”

He says it like a prayer. Sharply, he removes himself, and you only realize when you look back that he’s hunched over your frame, fucking himself with his left hand, allowing his hot cum to drain all over the back of your ass. He slaps the tip of his cock against your skin one last time while catching his breath. Everything washes away with the hot water before you can feel it or smell it, to your relief.

“Jeez,” you breathe tiredly, straightening up and stretching out your sore back. “You said showering together would save water, but I’m pretty sure we wasted a ton.”

“I’ll turn it off next time.”

“Hm?” You reach past him for the shampoo slyly. “There’s going to be a next time?”

“Unless you didn’t like it.”

You beckon to him, motioning with a hand. He turns obediently, squatting down so you can reach more easily. You massage your fingers into his scalp, combing through his hair carefully with the fragrant soap. When he stands up you turn around and allow him to wash your back, his large hands easily swiping over your sensitive skin with a reverence you adore. It’s moments like these, juxtaposed by ruthless sins, that feel all the more intimate.

“I liked it,” you admit quietly, now that he can’t see your face. His hands slow to a pause at your shoulder blades. They then quickly slip around your body, lubricated by coconut scented suds—you feel his toned front stick to your back as he squeezes you to him tightly.

“Good.” He nips at your ear affectionately. You have more to say before suddenly, a blast of ice hits you in the face.

“Fuck!” you shriek all of the sudden, dancing away from him reflexively. “We used all our hot water!”

After that, it was a hasty dash-and-go wash. But Wakatoshi warmed you up after, and you finally got to enjoy your breakfast, so you weren’t all too mad. It wasn’t a bad start to the day.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
